walk two moons

No, i'm not going to review the book about Miss Salamanca Tree Hiddle that we all read in 7th grade (back then i would have told you that, unlike the rest of the public middle school population, i was not a fan), but i am stealing its title. And the proverb after which it was adapted (which, in all fairness, the author stole from the Native Americans). But i'll get to that in a minute.

Those of you who took the time to read the journal entries i wrote in Colombia (or those of you who made it to the second entry, anyway) will hopefully remember a particular middle-aged man i encountered at the Houston airport who - unless by some measure God chooses to prove His sense of humor once more in my life - shall forever remain nameless, though never forgotten. Here was a man who, despite all of his imperfections and oddities, managed to weasel his way into my heart in a way that is not often expected from complete strangers. You may also recall my desire to drop everything and accompany him on his journey, wherever that may have lead - even if it meant scrapping my own plans to do it. Well, i didn't scrap my own plans, and i got on my plane to Colombia, and i'm fairly certain that was what God wanted me to do at the time...but in any other circumstance, i honestly believe i would have made the sacrifice to spend time with this man, which probably would not have ended up being much of a sacrifice at all, really.

Lately, similar urges seem to be dominating my daily routine (i say routine, but the truth is i never quite know what's going to happen from one day to the next, and i kind of like things that way). I walk through the deli at the local Super Wal-Mart and feel led to deliver a word to the lady with worn eyes shucking corn by the watermelons. I'm not quite sure what that word is, but i know once i approach her it will come to me. I drive down MA-3 on my way home from work and wonder where the guy cruising beside me is going, who he's going home to, and what he's having for dinner. I can't exactly follow him home and invite myself into his livingspace, but i'm positive if i did, there would be work for me there.

My heart has a train of thought, but my mind is not following. The spiritual wants to act upon these instincts, but the physical recoils. I begin to wonder if i'm not just a nutcase after all (so far, from an outsider's perspective, i'm potentially a stalker with schizophrenic tendencies). But i also know that i've been bestowed the gifts of prophesy and discernment. Does that give me permission to stalk people? I'm thinking not. So, what, then?

"Don't judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins." This proverb began haunting me tonight in the shower, of all places. I was thinking about The Simple Way, and about all the nameless faces i come in contact with every day that i could be reaching out to but am not. I don't believe the reason for this is a lack of faith necessarily, but rather an inability to interpret the stirrings of the Holy Spirit within me. By no means am i afraid to make a move (well, okay, sometimes i am). Mostly, though, the ways in which i feel drawn to act upon certain suspicions just seem absurd. But while i understand that this particular proverb is meant to be taken metaphorically, i can't help wondering if it's possible that God might sometimes be calling us to take it literally. And if so, what's stopping us?

How can we judge others if we have not stepped into their shoes (if they have any) and walked the roads they travel every day and slept in the same place they lay their head every night? How can we judge them if we have not endured their hardships or celebrated their blessings? Even now, as my mind is consumed with such questions, i am relatively clueless as to what message God is trying to get through to me - besides the obvious, that is. I know faith without action is dead, but action without direction is also stupid.

Perhaps i'm to start a campaign of some sort, a Walk Two Moons Campaign where i gather a few obliging souls and hit the streets, commissioning ourselves as live-in help for two days to complete strangers. We put away their groceries, walk their dogs, share dinner and exchange stories...? Yeah. Believe me, it sounds just as nutty to me as it does to you.

And yet, i kind of like the idea.

it takes a village

I've never heard anyone argue over the thought that life is hard, even - especially even, perhaps - as a believer. While every day brings something many Christian artists like to call "mercies new"; that is grace, hope and forgiveness, our attempts at finding these things are often thwarted by oppressing feelings of guilt, shame and hopelessness. Whatever our giants are - pornography, infidelity, alcoholism, you name it - we can never quite seem to defeat them. We may be able to cover them up for a while, keeping them hidden from the public or enshrouding ourselves in denial, but where sin is concerned, "out of sight, out of mind" doesn't exactly apply. In the back of our minds, we always know that things are amiss. Overwhelmed with guilt and feeling humbled, we may even try to repent and fix what's wrong, but this proves to be a far more difficult endeavor than expected and we're left feeling worse off in a failed effort to change than we did turning a blind eye to the problem.

So, what gives? Why is it that even with the power of Christ in us, no matter how much we love Him, no matter how badly we want to do right by Him, more often than not we resolve to give in to our inner demons, losing battle after battle?

I believe the answer lies in singularity. We were never meant to just fumble through life alone, and yet we are constantly in hibernation, forcing ourselves to struggle and endure and bear the weight of our burdens without the help of others. But we are a race built upon relationships, and God created us in this way so that we would never have to suffer alone. Everyone has different gifts, or tools, and while no one person is capable of possessing every tool available, each tool is necessary for survival.

Imagine yourself on a camping trip with your buddies. In your backpack, you're carrying a blanket, a journal, a few bottles of water and a compass. If all of your buddies suddenly ditch you and you're left to fend for yourself in the wilderness, are you going to make it out alive? Maybe. But one of your buddies is carrying the flashlight and food, and another buddy is carrying the tent. Each person is carrying a different set of tools, and yes, individually you may survive without a complete set, but ultimately every tool is needed for you to have the best camping experience possible.

So it's not just the tools that are necessary; most importantly, it's the people. One can only carry so many tools in their backpack - even though very few are necessary for literal survival - and this is where Shane Claiborne gets it right. Without going into too much detail, as there are many many facets to this particular radical, zany young man, Shane Claiborne is the founder of The Simple Way, a system of communal living designed to bring believers back to the basics of Christianity - unchained, uncluttered, and supported by all living under your roof. They eat meals together, pray together, worship together, and grow together. They open their doors for the drunkards, the prostitutes, the lepers and the general rejects of society, allowing them to learn and heal and change, and then release them when they're ready to stand on their own. They find jobs for people, plant gardens, visit churches, build parks and fight the legal system. They focus on writing and art and music and any other form of organic expression to teach, liberate and spark change. In short, they are being Jesus to the world, and they're doing it together.

I have many dreams, but perhaps my biggest one is to build a community home much like Shane's. Actually, i'd like to build numbers of them in different areas, even different countries if God allows. While some people may be turned off by the idea of sharing their living space, i think it has the potential of eliminating two of the most dominating problems in our society: selfishness and loneliness. Would i love to have my own bathroom and be able to watch movies whenever i feel like it? Sure. But being God's hands and feet to the orphans and widows, and sharing my burdens with others instead of suffering alone, sounds much more appealing and, in the end, far more gratifying. I want to live in such a way that every day i know i'm carrying out the will of God. I want to share in the joys and sorrows of others, lending my support and encouragement, and receiving the same in return. I don't want to just dream about change anymore, i want to make change.

I've done a lot of thinking about this, and while the details are a bit hazy - who will be involved? how will it run? - i know it's going to happen. I am convinced that if we stop doing life alone and start doing it together, the tides will change and we will truly be able to live in freedom, enjoying the best camping experience possible.

We've got the compass. Now let's pitch the tent.

Happy Birthday, Adam! :)

Here's to a year of unbridled passion and unchained bravery, sparks of revelation leading to acts of revolution, risking it all with nothing to lose, and spiritual rejuvenation.

Anberlin will be playing in New York, Pennsylvania and Massachusetts in November, by the way, so neither of us have any excuse. Let's do it.

even angels fall

She captures a thought with an ache and her heart grows weary. Thoughts pass but aches linger, and she has always struggled with putting an end to things, even things that bring her pain. So she wades in the tidepools of the evening, dwelling in the stillness of each shattering moment.

If a heart had a cloud's silver lining, would it make a difference?

One thing she must not let go of; one thing alone. She clutches it in a trembling hand. It is fragile and precious, powerful and dangerous. It consumes and weighs heavy on her soul.


Oh, God, the fatigue...

This will pass.

But, Father, the aching...

This, too, will pass. Be patient and wait until morning. Then release it to the sun.


Unwilling to be strong, she gives in. In the twilight it bathes; in the dusk in breathes; in the midnight hour it rises. A solid black balloon against the canvas of a blinding, silvery moon.

In the eclipse, the first poison arrow grazes her side. She captures a thought with an ache and her heart grows weary. A single bold tear dares to fall.


My child, don't ignore the damage.

I deserve it now.

You are wrong; I paid the price. This battle is mine and i've already won.

I'm too far gone, Father. I can't even look at you.


She won't admit it, but he already knows. The tidepools are warm and the pain feels good. Thoughts pass but aches linger, and she has always struggled with putting an end to things, even things that bring her pain.

One by one the arrows fall. She is overcome. She does not stand a chance fighting this one on her own, but she'd never been one for fighting anyway. Free to resist, she fails, closing her eyes. Searing flame to flesh and earthly she is prone. While her wounds are fresh, she is overthrown.

Several hours later, she awakens to an incredible warmth that envelops her body. Is it fire? No, it is sun. The dawn of a new day.


Father, why am i still alive?

My child, I have pulled all the poison arrows from your side.

I never even put up a fight.

I was there, child. I fought for you. I wrapped my arms around you and shielded you from most of them, but you may be left with a few scars.

Why did you do that?

Because i love you.

But i feel dead inside.

This will pass.

I'm ashamed, Father.

Don't be. Remember what i told you a long time ago: Even angels fall from grace.

I really miss you.

I miss you, too. I hope you won't stay away from me now.

I won't. But what if i mess up again?

I'll be right there with you. I'll fight every battle for you. I'll intercede for you; I'll bleed for you. Nothing can ever separate you from my love.

I'm so sorry, Father.

I know, child. But you're safe now and that's all that matters.

I love you.

I love you, too, more than you'll ever be able to understand. Now come back under my wing and rest.

Okay. Goodnight, Father.

Goodnight.

_______________________________________

even angels fall

in the darkness i see you stumble

as you fumble to find the light

and sometimes you're blinded by your eyes

but i hope you don't give up without a fight

it's not easy for you to be like me

don't think that i don't understand

i bridged the distance between our existences

and suffered all when i became a man

if you are hurting

if you are learning from your mistakes

if you are yearning

for perfection to fall into place

know i love you

and i want to wrap you in my embrace

remember this

even angels fall from grace

in your sadness i saw you bleeding

saw you receding into the night

i felt your heart break and your spirit quake

but always i was right there by your side

so if you feel broken, don't lose hope in

all this faith that i have in you

you are not worthless, for you are not fatherless

and the way you are is exactly how i'll take you

if you are hurting

if you are learning from your mistakes

if you are yearning

for perfection to fall into place

know i love you

won't you let me wrap you in my embrace

and remember this

even angels fall from grace

even angels fall from grace

even angels fall from grace

even angels fall from grace

i love you, i love you, i love you

don't you dare feel small

even angels fall

step 11

"We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out."

That is step 11 in the 12 Steps to recovery, a program that i co-coordinate at the JAIRUS Agency. I'm a born doer, however, not an instructor - so instead of just teaching the teens these 12 steps, i work through the steps with them. If they have to take a moral inventory, i have to take a moral inventory. If they have to make amends, i have to make amends. And if they have to meditate, then i have to meditate as well.

Self-reflection is hard. It's easy to procrastinate taking time out of my day to think about who i am and the choices i've made, where i've come from and where i'm going. Quite often this means facing certain truths and admitting to myself that i've made mistakes and that there are parts of me that need some serious change. I need tuning, cleansing, wielding and refining. Some days i feel like i need an entire demolition crew. On these days, i struggle to find the good within myself.

During this period of meditation, i've also realized that i am extremely self-critical. It goes beyond pinpointing my faults to a place where i'm so down on myself about certain irrelevant things that i feel like the world's biggest loser. For example, i've made a habit of reminding myself over and over again that i never went to college. In that moment, it doesn't seem to matter that i applied to my dream college and got accepted; I'm so consumed by the fact that i never actually went that i can't simply focus on what a great accomplishment it was for me, and how elated i was when i received that acceptance letter. Another thing that tends to bug me is that i've never really had what most people would consider a "real" full-time job. I have no career going. At this point in time, i'm not even headed towards a particular one. Along with that, i'm married and while we did move out for 5 months and that time was amazing, we still live with my parents, and while it's looking like things will soon be changing for the better, we're still struggling financially.

All of these things put together make for a very heavy burden, and today, while cruising down the highway boldly reflecting on life in general once more, i had a personal revelation of sorts. It hit me that this burden i've been carrying is completely unnecessary. It is stupid, and i hate it, and i believe God does, too. I've gotten so tired of carrying it around that i think this morning God was smiling and saying to me, "Finally, you're getting it! This burden is nothing but dead weight. Toss it out the window and just trust me."

And suddenly i knew what the will of God was for my life (this is what we call an epiphany). I had been praying for the knowledge of God's will for my life for years, just as the second half of Step 11 urges us to do. It's a question that every believer will ask and pray about and sometimes even obsess over: What is the will of God? Am i supposed to go to this college or that one? What should i study? Which job should i take? Who should i marry? - and the list goes on and on.

The Bible is very clear about what God's will is for his people. Here are a few verses to sum it up:

"...And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." - Micah 6:8

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." - James 1:27

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." - 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

There are many more, of course, but the point is that (as you can see) God isn't really big on pointing out specifics regarding such matters as education, occupation, choosing one's spouse, etc. Instead, he gave us the ten commandments and lots of direction as to what we should generally be doing with our lives, all of which falls under those ten laws. Don't get me wrong; i believe that God is omniscient, or all-knowing, and that he even knows every decision that we will make long before we make it...but i don't necessarily believe that these decisions were pre-destined in the way that we have come to understand pre-destiny. God knows the end result before it comes. You can change your mind about something a million times and decide not to do something that you were previously planning on doing, but whatever you actually do in the end, God knew that would happen. But he didn't choose it; you did.

So here's the epiphany i had today: that God's will for my life is not about specifics at all. I can do whatever i want, as long as it falls under his umbrella, so to speak. In other words, as long as i'm not out of God's will, i'm in it. We all know what God doesn't want from us - so if we're not doing those things, then we're all set...make sense? For example, he advises believers not to marry unbelievers, but that's about as clear as he gets as far as marriage goes. I don't necessarily believe that there's only one person out there for everyone. There are many fish in the sea, my friends, and believe it or not, we do have options. We can get along just fine with a number of different people - choose one (with the intent to stay with that one, of course) and God will bless your marriage. In the same way, i don't believe God has necessarily given us one college to attend or one occupation to choose from. I believe he gives us many options and as long as our decision is made with wisdom and for the right reasons, we will be blessed in these areas as well.

But i still had to ask, as this epiphany was getting clearer, "God, what am i supposed to DO?" And his simple response was, "Experience." And suddenly that, too, made sense. My life has been about experience - just in a different way than most. I may not have gone to college or received a degree (yet); I may still be living at home and struggling financially. But i've had jobs in 10 different fields and traveled to nine different countries; i speak three different languages and have friends in so many places around the world i've lost count. I know Jehovah's witnesses, athiests, wiccans, mysticists, buddhists, catholics, and 7th day adventists; i've read hundreds of books in every genre, flown to Europe by myself, and just recently i ate cow tongue. And that's all just what's off the top of my head.

I want to serve God, and i want to experience life as i do it. I believe this is God's will for me, not specifics, but movement in a general direction: traveling to as many places as possible, experiencing other cultures, living among different groups of people, sharing what i have to offer and taking what is offered to me. God's greatest command is to love, and when i die i want to leave that legacy behind. I hope that people won't say, "She never went to college or settled on a steady career path," but instead i hope they say, "She loved. She went out into the world and loved people. She learned something new every day, and in her death she is teaching us that this is what life is all about. This is the way things should be."

an einstein concept

For what i feel are obvious reasons, i usually don't read Myspace bulletins that look like forwards. My friend Steve tends not to pass around anything that doesn't have a little depth to it, however, so i figured i'd check this one out as i'm always interested in what he has to say about something. Since he, along with two others, shared their thoughts on this particular story, i thought i'd go into a little more detail and share my thoughts on what each of them had to say. What's your take?

A university professor challenged his students with this question: Did God create everything that exists? A student bravely replied, "Yes, he did!"

"God created everything? The professor asked.

"Yes, sir," the student replied.

The professor answered, "If God created everything, then God created evil since evil exists, and according to the principal that our works define who we are, then God is evil". The student became quiet before such an answer. The professor was quite pleased with himself and boasted to the students that he had proven once more that the Christian faith was a myth.

Another student raised his hand and said, "Can I ask you a question, professor?"

"Of course", replied the professor.

The student stood up and asked, "Professor, does cold exist?"

"What kind of question is this? Of course it exists. Have you never been cold?" The students snickered at the young man's question.

The young man replied, "In fact, sir, cold does not exist. According to the laws of physics, what we consider cold is in reality the absence of heat. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-460 degrees F) is the total absence of heat; all matter becomes inert and incapable of reaction at that temperature. Cold does not exist. We have created this word to describe how we feel if we have no heat."

The student continued, "Professor, does darkness exist?"

The professor responded, "Of course it does."

The student replied, "Once again, you are wrong, sir; darkness does not exist either. Darkness is in reality the absence of light. Light we can study, but not darkness. In fact we can use Newton's prism to break white light into many colors and study the various wavelengths of each color. You cannot measure darkness. A simple ray of light can break into a world of darkness and illuminate it. How can you know how dark a certain space is? You measure the amount of light present. Isn't this correct? Darkness is a term used by man to describe what happens when there is no light present."

Finally the young man asked the professor, "Sir, does evil exist?"

Now uncertain, the professor responded, "Of course as I have already said. We see it every day. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil."

To this the student replied, "Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is not like faith, or love that exist just as does light and heat. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light."

The professor sat down.

The young man's name -- Albert Einstein

Myles' take: If evil is simply the absence of God, how can that be if God is supposedly everywhere? If he's everywhere then there is no absence of him so therefore he did create evil as far as christian's are concerned. what's up.

Jim's take: Well then you can say that god is simply the absence of evil, thus to sum up the whole situation you can go back and forth just as equally. Religion was created by man for man to create order in society just like you would find in any rule or law to create a state of mind. That state of mind is that your consequences will dictate your course of action. I think that the existence of religion is really sad because that clearly shows that the human mind needs a fictional figure that they call "God" to be their ultimate say of what they can or can not do. Think for yourself!! Thats the biggest problem is that they dont want to think, they would just rather label everything to comfort themselves. If everyone just believed in being a good person then I wouldnt be ranting and raving on this stupid ass bulletin.

Steve's take: In agreement with Einstein cold darkness and alike in actuallitydo not exist. But its a problem of terminology. Many mistakes are made because of the wording of text. Things like Cold darkness and emptyness do not actually exist but the ideas of such do exist. These words are nouns. A noun is used to describe a person place thing or IDEA. This argument is not tangable it is a matter of litteracy. In the same sence, time does not exist. It is simply a way to keep track of what possition the planet is in. I will never say religion is a bad thing. Christianity is a system of beliefs that must be interpreted by the reader. Jim's right. Think for your self, but rule nothing out. Were we created all at once by a magic god, unlikely, but the further back in history you go, even back to the big bang theory, you have to ask. What banged and where did it come from? Until that question has a concrete answer with some type of evidence, then the existance of God is a distinct possibility. But remember "God" is just another noun expressing an idea.

Audrey's take: Most people consider Einstein a genius. I think he was simply blessed with common sense. His eyes were open to the obvious, which is practically a gift in a world where mankind has made everything more complicated than it has to be. I believe his argument was well said and put things into perspective even for me.

Myles - God created choices, not evil. When he placed the tree of knowledge in the garden of Eden, he gave one man and one woman the choice to eat its fruit or not eat its fruit. In this way he has, since the very beginning, given us free will. In the same way, he has given us all the choice to accept him in our hearts or not accept him, and if we do not accept him then he has no influence over the things we say and do. This is where "evil," or the lack of the presence of God, comes into play. That's not to say that this "evil" only comes from non-believers - even Christians shut God out on a daily basis, selfishly making decisions based on their own desires of the flesh. So God is everywhere, but he can't influence your spirit if you've chosen not to let him.

Jim - I disagree that "God was created by man for man to create order in society." As you said, we have laws in place to accomplish just that, so technically as far as creating order is concerned, we have no need for a God. But if i asked you "why do we need order?" you'd probably answer "because without it, there would be nothing but chaos and bad things would happen." There's your evil. And now we're back to square one: where does evil come from? It's an idea, the absence of God; therefore, God is necessary. And i think i've already established the fact that God gave us free will. (By the way, i can't help but notice what an impassioned argument you had for this "stupid ass bulletin.")

Steve - Thanks for adding "time" to the list, i hadn't thought of that and you're right - it doesn't exist. I'm sure it's obvious that i don't agree that God is just an idea. The Bible says that God is a living Spirit. He is not unfeeling - he expresses love, laughter, sadness and forgiveness to name a few - but he is also unchangeable and not subject to emotions like man. And for the record, i always smile every time you ask "What banged and where did it come from?" :)

is this it?

Everyone has always considered Noah a lucky man. I have never understood this.

We all know the story. After X number of years exercising their freedom to rule the earth, mankind managed to evoke divine disappointment by basically turning it into a circus. The bloodlust was seemingly insatiable, the incest and twisted sexual acts ran rampant, the disrespect for nature and fellow man like a disease that could not be quarantined. Unfortunately, there were no Jack Bauers back in the day.

"WHOA." - That's what i imagine the first word out of God's mouth was on the morning He decided that something drastic had to be done. This was sooooo not the way He'd planned it. Where were the children playing in the rivers? Where were the families eating dinner peacefully over campfires? And where were the neighbors assisting in the construction of the barns next door?

No worries. God glances at the world clock, hesitates, then speed-dials Noah, who is still in REM sleep despite the incessant bleating of those blasted goats outside his tent.

"The Philistines are coming!" Noah shouts, limbs flaying as he gets tangled up in the bedsheets. He accidentally smacks his wife in the face.

"Chillax, man," God assures him. As always, He's cool as a cucumber. "It's nothing that serious. I'm thinking about flooding the earth pretty soon and it will be the end of the world as you know it. But I'm going to save your family, so it's all good."

And the rest, as they say, is history. But has anyone ever thought about what was going through Noah's poor head at the time? I'm not talking about the obvious stress of figuring out how he's going to build a 450-ft-long ark, or how he's going to herd two of every type of animal onto it. I'm talking, "Holy crap. I don't think my ecstatic family even realizes what this means. It means that God is wiping out every human being on the planet except for us. That's it. Which means He must really esteem us and expect that we are going to be the start of a world that's supposed to flourish and harmonize. It's MY job to make sure the earth reaches equilibrium. Holy...crap."

And 40 days and 40 nights later, when it finally stopped raining and God promised He would never flood the earth again, i'm willing to bet that it was not all rainbows and doves and great sighs of relief. I imagine that Noah was standing there thinking, "Great. Just great. The fate of the world rests on my shoulders now. So if history repeats itself and things start going awry, it will be my fault. Every generation from here on out stems from me. So another 2,000 years from now, if things are looking ugly, I'll be to blame. And on top of all that, there are no more new beginnings. It will literally be up to mankind to determine their quality of life. Super."

But my intent here is not to illustrate a Bible story. My intent is to realize that not much has changed since God first obliterated all He had made and to wonder why this is so. Why are wars still raging and forests still burning? Why are slavery and rape and torture still acceptable? Why have AIDS and hunger and poverty become uncontrollable? Why do we relish in materialism and gluttony? Why are we dishonest with ourselves and with others? I don't believe that mankind is evil at heart. I think we're selfish, and i think it's destroying us. Not only are we indulging in this monstrous character flaw, we're choosing to ignore it and refusing to take the necessary steps in learning how to become selfLESS.

High school is a playground compared to what follows. Graduation is supposed to be a commencement, and i have to admit, i always imagined myself becoming a better person as time went on. Well, i didn't become a better person. If i don't come right out and admit this, then i'm living in denial, and as a co-coordinator of a 12-Step program (which seems so laughable now), i know that denial gets you absolutely nowhere in life. So here i am, laying one of my most shameful cards out on the table: i've regressed. Majorly.

If you're in the boat i'm in right now, then most days you feel like you've completely blown it - scratch that, you KNOW you've completely blown it, and you're slapped in the face with it on a regular basis. You're pretty sure that Saddam's character flaws would pale in comparison to yours. You are weak and pathetic, and nothing you do makes sense. There is no rhyme or reason to the decisions you make except that they all point back to one truth: you are selfish. There is no other explanation. You can hurt yourself and hurt others, and it kills you, destroying you from the inside out, but nothing changes. You can't stop. It's almost as if screwing up has become an addiction. As much as you hate it, you're a slave to it, and as far as you can see, there is no end to it. And so the cycle goes.

Perhaps the worst part about going through this stage of life is the utter feeling of loneliness. Nothing encapsulates it better than the song "Hello Alone" by Anberlin, in which singer Stephen Christian wonders:

Is this where the interstate ends?

in coastal towns like this

waiting for my world to cave under

We seem to invent ourselves

in the places left unknown

If hope could only find me out

Is this the end of everything we know?

This is the end of everything i am

Is anybody out there?

Hello! Hello!

Broken hearts like promises are left for lesser knowns

Is anybody out there?

Alone! Alone!

Cause the coldest winter's thrive on broken homes

Depression is the unholy ghost

in the coastal towns of ahead

Though i know a thousand names

i see my only friend

I've got the gun

All i need is ten cents for the bullet

I feel helpless, sleeping at best, waiting for your return

Are you ever coming home?

Is anybody out there?

Hello! Hello!

Broken hearts like promises are left for lesser knowns

Is anybody out there?

Alone! Alone!

Cause the coldest winter's thrive on broken homes

Broken homes

Does anybody (does anybody)

Do they ever listen? (do they ever listen?)

Does anybody (does anybody)

care at all?!

Do they care at all? Do they care at all? Do they care at all?

Do you care at all? Do you care at all?!

The song rings true for me in many ways. Every morning i wake and wonder, "Is this it? Is this really the end of everything i am? Is there nothing more to me?" And it's humiliating, and humbling, and empty. I feel just like Noah might have felt the first time he screwed up after God gave his family a clean slate to work with - or the second time, or the third, etc. Because every child born into the world is another clean slate for God to work with, another chance for Him to use someone to make change. I was one of those chances, and i blew it. Over and over and over again.

Where is the hope? I am holding on dearly to the fact that God does not hold our sins against us, that He loves us and does not abandon us, that He knows our hearts and promises to be with us every step of the way should we decide to hand over the wheel and make a serious vow to incite change. I want to change, honestly i do. And i know it's possible, because somewhere along the way i changed for the worse. It's just so much harder, especially once you've backslidden, to change for the better.

God help me.

Colombia July 2007 - my journal entries

07.09.07 – Human Nature vs. Trained Nature

I have a habit of stealing in-flight magazines. It seems i can't resist saving articles about the Inuit tribes in Alaska or the wolf packs in Canada to read again later. And if it's not the articles that draw me, it's the photography. Some of the photos i keep simply to look at and transport myself to a different place where my mood inevitably changes, and some photos i keep to use in my collages. The July 2007 edition of The Continental was disappointing and failed to measure up to the standard i've apparently set for most in-flight magazines.

In other words, it's not worthy of being stolen.

But I consider myself a fairly open-minded person. There was an article entitled, "Legends of the Devil's Isle: Discover Bermuda's myths, luxury and lore." Sounds intriguing, right? - especially to someone so obsessed with pirates. Well, for some crazy reason i just didn't feel like reading it. So i read it. And wouldn't you know, it was amazing. If i wasn't already interested in seeing Bermuda, i would be now.

Sometimes in life we have to do things we don't want to do, things we just "don't feel like" doing. In fact, i think oftentimes doing something you don't want to do is more important and in many cases more fulfilling than doing something you want to do. These things are building blocks. They build character. They make us stronger, more patient, more open-minded people. (Not to mention more interesting.)

Yesterday morning, for example, i forced myself to take a very quick, very cold shower to prepare for the week ahead of me. Did i want to? Heck, no. Warm, leisurely showers are nearly as precious to me as air. But i knew that i'd have to put aside the desires of my flesh in order to fulfill the desire of my heart, which was to prepare myself in every way possible - even physically - to be able to serve my Colombian family to the best of my ability.

Taking a quick, cold shower is a small-scale example of someone doing choosing to do something against their trained nature. I say trained because i sometimes feel that in general, we have no idea of the extent of the abilities of human nature. We train ourselves to life live a certain way, which can include something as simple as how many hours of sleep we require or as complex as how we manage our money. Some of these patterns are relatively harmless, while others can be dangerous or even stunt our personal growth. We think we are immunizing ourselves by coating our choices with phrases like "that's just who i am," but instead we are actually limiting ourselves.

If i never did anything i didn't want to do, i still would not know how to swim or ride a bike. I would have no idea that i'm capable of prophesying or speaking to a crowd ot changing a diaper or letting go of a dog that meant everything to me. I would be caught in a stale cycle of safety and routine, with no room for learning and growing and changing. Bermuda would still be that exotic place where Merlin the Wizard went on vacation instead of a natural and architectural wonder with a vibrant history of smugglers, revolutionary leaders and sunken vessels.

What causes us to be unwilling to do something against our trained nature? It is fear. Fear of drowning if we step out into the water. Fear of getting hurt when entering into a new relationship. Fear of having doubt about our beliefs if we study another religion. No matter what we do or how safely and routinely we live our lives, uncomfortable or negative outcomes will always be possible. We cannot be so blind and naive to think that by obeying our trained nature we are in control of anything. If we do so, we are allowing FEAR to control us, and we will - quite literally - be closing ourselves off from a whole world of possibility and discovery.

And as a reminder of this lesson, i have decided to steal my in-flight magazine after all. Bermuda awaits.


06:15 PM same day – Beautiful Strangers

As i sit here listening to the Latin music channel on the in-flight radio, i realize that i am exactly where i am supposed to be - on my way back to Colombia, where we'll land in just a few hours. There are very few things in my life that i'm sure about, and Colombia is one of them. While i'm all about adventure and spontaneity, it feels so good to be sure about something.

My heart is still slightly apprehensive, but i'm finally starting to relax and get excited. A few weeks ago, i still had no idea which children from last year would still be living at El Camino and which, if any, had left. I finally e-mailed Aldrin, one of our translators who became like a brother to me, and asked him the dreaded question. Even though i had completely prepared myself for the expected answer, i couldn't stop the tears when he told me that the two brothers i had bonded with the most were gone. Apparently, no amount of consideration can prepare you for the loss of someone you love or have grown attached to, even if you are not losing them to death. But i have come to accept and understand that this is a new season and that there will be other children who need my love and attention now. Not that i can't be sad or miss those boys, but i owe it to the rest to set aside these emotions for now so i can offer up my whole self in this time of growth and servanthood.

Switching gears, there has been one man during our travels that stood out to me more than anyone else. He stood in front of me during the security check in Houston and brought himself to my attention when he made a comment about my sandals. He said i was smart for wearing them to the airport because it simplified the whole removal and replacement of the shoes process. I agreed that it certainly did make things easier and proceeded to notice the shoes in his hands, which were grubby with dirt and worn and torn almost to the point of being unusable. My gaze trailed down to his feet, veiled with thin black socks that boasted a hole for nearly every toe.

We moved up in line, each grabbing plastic gray buckets for our things. I placed my backpack and sandals in my bucket. The man had two buckets - one for his laptop, and another for his bag, his shoes, and a seemingly endless string of miscellaneous items being fished from his pockets. Pockets that i began to believe were housing everything this man owned.

My observational tendencies kicked into gear and i watched the man carefully, taking pity on this clearly tedious unloading procedure he was going through. I stopped short of offering to help, noting the way the wrinkles around his gentle blue eyes strained wearily behind large glasses. His salt-and-pepper hair hung in soft curls at the nape of his neck, which was flecked with odd clusters of freckles. His drab gray shirt, obviously one of his best chosen to accompany an adequate pair of Dickies khakis, was ruined by tiny random stains and holes - but it was ironed.

Another conveyer belt was made available, and i turned to carry my tray over to it but was cut off by on onslaught of eager travelers that had rushed out from behind me. I returned to my spot behind the nameless man, whose eyes had changed somehow. They were apologising. He was embarrassed.

"If you ever see me in a line," he said, "you should run for another one. People know. I'm like this everywhere i go. Even the grocery store..."

"Oh, i don't mind," i smiled. "It's really alright."

I think the man almost felt too bad to hear what i was saying, or to even accept my smile. The truth was, my heart went out to him and i wished, as i sometimes do with certain characters i run into, that i could hop onboard whatever flight he was taking and accompany him for a week, whatever that entailed. As a friend, as someone to talk to. I wondered why he'd felt so shamed by something that i considered a common occurrence and what he meant by "people know." Was he given a hard time on a daily basis by others? Were people so callous and impatient that they would cause a kind and gentle, aging man to feel guilty about such trivial matters? Or were they judging him by appearance alone?

I'm finding it interesting that my team leader has given us the theme of "choices (opciones)" for this trip, and so far my journal entries have been all about fighting fear, building character and harboring compassion. It is getting quiet now, and too dark to write. I may try to sleep some now, or continue getting to know the Colombian girl next to me who hates traveling alone. Her name, by the way, is Valentina.


07.11.07 - Home

To say it's a struggle to find words suitable for describing how it feels to be here would be almost insulting to the truth. There is no greater burden than spending one's days caring for children and youth whose families either never loved them or could never afford to love them.

It is day two, and the fact that i'm lying here in bed journaling while the children are outside playing in the midday sun in killing me. I've learned from experience that unless i practice self-discipline and pry myself away every from the activities every now and then, nothing will ever get recorded. But these entries will be scatterbrained, as i'm obviously wanting to be somewhere else doing something more important while i'm writing them.

Already, this trip has played out so differently than last year - in good ways and some unfortunate ways as well. Due to some error in communication, Senora Gabriella was under the impression that we were arriving on the 18th (which is when we're leaving), so they had not been expecting us for nine more days and consequently the cooks we hired are working elsewhere at this time. This has meant that the gardener's wife, Alejandra (who just had a baby girl several weeks ago), along with Leidy, have had to work harder and cook our food as well. At first when we tried to help them, they refused our assistance like the hospitable Colombians they are and closed the doors to the kitchens to keep us out. But they soon realized that we Americans can be stubborn as well, and it has been wonderful working with them to clean dishes and serve dinner to the children.

The night we arrived, none of the children were up waiting for us as we expected. We were disappointed, and even more so when we realized that more of the kids we'd bonded with last year had left El Camino than we thought. This took some time to digest and accept, but the process has been gentle. The new boys and girls here are such a joy, each personality so very different from all the rest. But what blesses me and fills me with happiness the most is the transformation i see in the older boys from last year. The ones that remained distant and seemingly disinterested then (it had taken me until the end of our trip to coax some of them out of their shells) are now the most loving and involved of the whole group. The difference between the boys here and the boys in America is like night and day. Here, even the 11-15-year-olds will hold your hand and hug you, and they will still hug and kiss you goodnight. They will pick flowers for you and write letters, and on occasion they will nickname you. Last night i was dubbed "Trinity" because apparently the haircut i had last year reminds them of Trinity from The Matrix. The fact that my hair looks nothing like that now is irrelevant. Quite honestly, they can call me whatever they want and i actually think Trinity is a pretty cool nick.

Some might consider our mornings here rough. If you're lucky enough to get more than a dribble of water from the shower, it's absolutely frigid. If you're not woken by the birds than begin singing odd tunes here at an ungodly hour, you will surely be woken by Lincoln, the goat. Our bathrooms are harboring small cockroaches and giant palmetto bugs this year, and lizards skitter freely across the ceilings over our bunks. We meet by the pool at 8:00 (later than last year!) for team time, where we sing a few songs and talk about what we're going to do and pray. During this time the children finish their morning chores, then wander the yard waiting for us to wrap up, some clinging earnestly to the fence around the pool, watching and listening. But after this time we eat breakfast, which usually consists of some form of eggs, toast, and freshly squeezed juice of either mandarin, banana, pineapple, the delicious tree tomato or my and Kayla's absolute favorite in the whole wide world, lulo. Lulo fruit is shaped like a tomato and appears as one on the inside, but has a bumpy rind that looks like a cross-breed of an orange and a lime. Kayla and i have thought long and hard about it, and finally came up with the ultimate question: What if the tree tomato and lulo fruit had a baby? The thought alone was enough to satisfy our liquid needs for a lifetime.

Due to our setbacks, the middle of our days have been a bit lackadaisical so far but that's okay. It's relaxing and soon the olympics and outings will begin. Nighttime is again by far the best time of day, however. The children will take our hands and lead us to their dinner tables, where we'll sit with them and watch them eat chicken and rice, soup or plantains. We brought more money for food this time, so they are eating much better this week than last year, which makes me so happy for them. Then they will hurry up to their rooms to change into their pajamas and brush their teeth and then join us on the porch to sit as a giant group in the evening talking, laughing...Pastor Alex will break out his guitar and the children will sing a few songs. There is a whole lot of snuggling going on. :) When it's time for bed, every kid will come and hug and kiss us several times over. Some of our team will go inside to chat and have coffee while the rest of us hang out with the older boys who don't have to go to sleep yet. We sit outside in the dark and lie down in the courtyard together staring at the stars. The boys will try to say things to us - or just about us to one another, as they know we can't understand a lot of what they're saying and have therefore felt free to say things they probably shouldn't and then laugh. :) We've learned to tell when this is happening. Even when the boys finally go to bed, they don't really sleep but continue patrolling their balcony in the dark or calling things down to us from their open windows. We'll remain lying down on the ground stargazing and listening to scattered hisses of "Trinity!" and "Goodnight!" Last night in particular was beautiful. It was warm, the stars were incredibly large and clear, and lightning was flashing nearby without a trace of thunder. I couldn't imagine myself anywhere else in the world in that moment.

I am home.


07.12.07 - Revival

Revival: An awakening. Restoration to life. Strength.

My dad gave a message of revival to the people of the church we visited last night. It was amazing. He had asked me before we left for Colombia to read his notes and i really liked it, but his delivery was incredible and the people received it with such humility and enthusiasm. I was so proud of my dad because he'd known for a very long time that he was going to give an important message to the church of Colombia and went for it full-throttle and courageously, without ever having stepped foot in the country before and without the ability to speak their language. But the awesome thing about being brothers and sisters in Christ, and the awesome thing about love in general, is that language is never a barrier. Yes, Orlando (who I will describe for you in much better detail later) translated for my dad, but as you will soon find out, words are not necessary for communicating much.

What happened after the message was given is not adequately describable at all, but some record is mandatory so i will give it my best shot. Our team was called forward to stand at the front of the church (which was constructed of thick bamboo stalks and concrete, and covered with a sheet of metal) to pray for whoever wanted it. An elderly woman with oppressed eyes shuffled as quickly as she could to the front of the room and stopped before me and Sam. We laid our hands on her and immediately i felt heavier, as though a weight had been placed over my shoulders. I knew that God was allowing me to feel the burden that she was carrying. We began to pray for her, speaking freedom and release and peace into her life. She was weeping, her tears wetting the cold floor. Whether or not God allowed her mind to understand our English i'll never know, but her heart understood exactly what was happening. When we were finished, she moved towards me and i took her in my arms and held her for a long time, both of us feeling lighter and speaking volumes to each other in our silence. The next forty or so minutes went likewise. We joined some of our other team members in praying for different people. The band got onstage and began to sing and play, but we continued praying. At one point Dee, Kayla, Ilya, Sam and i were all laying hands on this one young man and praying for him at the same time, hardly able to hear what anyone else was saying over the volume of the music. I remember nearly every word i said to this young man and every word of prophesy God had for him. Since he couldn't understand English and we couldn't even hear what the person next to us what uttering, i know this young man's reaction was not to our spoken words but to the Holy Spirit. He began to cry and his entire body shook as though a private earthquake was taking place where he stood. Then his feet stamped and he spun around in such an oddly perfect fashion that i knew the motions were not of his own doing. From what i gather, knowing what i had prayed and later finding out some of what Dee had prayed, i believe that we were witnessing both the effect of the very real presence of God and perhaps demons fleeing his body as several curses over his life were cast out and replaced with blessings of protection and prosperity. It was like nothing i had ever witnessed before.

The prayer eventually stopped, but the worship went on and only got more amazing as the night progressed. People were dancing and singing and holding absolutely nothing back. Orlando took me and Dee into the aisle and danced with us. Others ran down the aisles as if they had been set free from some kind of bondage, and it's likely they were. I know my dad took some video of this whole ordeal, and i'm looking forward to revisiting that incredible night. It lasted for hours. Orlando spoke. We didn't leave until about midnight and by that time we were emotionally and physically spent. Great night.

This morning after breakfast, we broke out the wiffle ball equipment and in keeping with tradition attempted to engage the boys in the good old American pastime. It actually lasted much longer than last year and the boys seemed to have a lot of fun with it. As usual, however, there comes a point where the whole rules thing gets thrown out the window and reigning them in becomes a laughable option. So baseball was scrapped for a sport that NEVER gets old in Colombia - futbol, or soccer as we know it here. These boys play futbol every single day, for several hours with no mercy, no rules and no exceptions. Let me just put it this way: if you cannot handle getting bodychecked by a barefoot, barebacked nine-year-old with the grace and good sportsmanship of a humble man, save yourself the embarrassment and don't bother. In conclusion, i will end with this amazingly awesome list put together by Kayla, who bravely and not without her fair share of suffering endured not just one but several games of futbol with our little Colombian brothers:


07.14.07 – Near-Death Experiences (not to be confused with cow tongue)

You are not going to believe what happened at breakfast yesterday morning. Orlando put a slice of cheese into his coffee. Yes, cheese. He called it a "Colombian microwave." Apparently this is a common improvisational method with Colombians lacking this little, now to be deemed critically necessary, appliance. The cheese slice gets placed into the coffee and stirred just for a moment, then left alone for a bit to melt. After a minute or so, the cheese is removed with a knife and spread onto toast. Believe me, just watching the process was painful and our entire team nearly lost our appetites. Not only was Orlando's coffee ruined with a hint of cheese, but his toast was ruined with more than a hint of coffee. And he proceeded to ingest both the coffee AND the toast - happily, i might add.

Incredible day. Just like last year, we took a bus ride up into the mountains to a pool resort - not quite as impressive as our previous location, but still beautiful and just as satisfying. The ride was definitely more interesting this time around. (I sat next to Marcos, an 11-year-old boy who was for the most part distant last year and who i've been getting very close to now. Everything about him fascinates me - his beautiful face, his lust for learning English, his mischievous streak...he fills me with warmth and brings out all the motherly inclinations in me. I love to snuggle with him.) We were about 50 passengers onboard this bus, which rumbled through the mountains along very long, narrow, curvy dirt roads with no guardrails or anything to prevent us from propelling several hundred feet off the cliffs should a landslide or any number of other accidents occur. With no other vehicles behind us and none coming at us, our destination began to seem rather mysterious. In fact, the roads were actually being repaired in front of us as we drove, leaving some of the team with a not-so-great feeling. I personally have grown so used to the Colombian way that i'm just finding humor in every given situation. I love it.

The water was quite cold, so i allowed myself to bake in the sun for a bit before diving into the pool with my friends. It was refreshing, but unlike the pool back at El Camino, i could only stay in for a few minutes at a time. Eventually, we all made it up to the outdoor cafeteria for lunch where i had...*drum roll please*...cow tongue!! I was feeling adventurous and Orlando said he'd eat it if i didn't like. But i liked. At first, the consistency (a bit like that of liver, but worse) threatened to ruin the experience, but the taste resembled that of roast beef and i managed to eat the whole, er, slice. Dee and Kayla braved it as well and took a bite so they could check cow tongue off their list of things to eat before they die.

No trip to Colombia would be complete without a near-death experience by Pastor Alex and Orlando. Indeed, i can see this is quickly becoming another tradition. Instead of jumping off a building into the river this year, they decided it would be fun to jump off a cliff into the pool. We had relocated to a pool in the back of the park that was now occupied by our group alone. Despite numerous warnings (which were clearly all made just so it could be said that they were given, as everyone knew full well that nothing would stop these two daredevils and besides, we'd be lying if we said we didn't want to see it happen), Pastor Alex and Orlando dove in. Very, very stupid - but both survived and went on with their day and everything was great.

Not.

Orlando, who has come to epitomize the term foolhardy, could not be satisfied with just one jump into the pool. He couldn't just be happy with the amazing photo that Caren took of him jumping off the cliff, gloat a little, thank God he was still alive, and move on. He had to jump in again, resulting in a late-night trip to the hospital as his head hit the bottom of the pool (surprise, surprise) and left him with a bloody head and severe pain in his neck. None of which stopped him from heading up the mountain to play an intense game of futbol with the boys, of course.

Even the ride home was interesting. On top of the simple thrill of thundering back down the mountain, one of the girls vomited in the back of the bus, forcing many of those who were seated back there to head to the front and squish themselves among the already packed crowd there. Everyone was exhausted, so the only activity we did upon arriving home was a devotional, which was really just me and Sam reading a children's book that i wrote and he illustrated. The kids seemed to like it, so i was happy.

Caren hasn't been feeling well, so she went to bed early. Since she and Wilson (El Camino's accountant - awesome man, very sweet) were going on a trip the next day, the rest of us wanted to stay up and plan what we were going to do with the kids. When that was done, my dad broke out his guitar and we sang a few songs there in the living room, starting with "Wrap Me In Your Arms." It was a very powerful, intimate time as a team. The song was hardly over before Kayla started telling us how it touched her and before we all knew it, she was bawling her eyes out giving us her incredibly moving testimony. Not one person could stop their own tears from flowing and just when we'd all settled down and started to breathe again, Kayla started prophesying over each one of us as though she'd been doing it her whole life. She even made us all move into the bedroom where Caren was sleeping to lay hands on her and pray her sickness away. It was amazing - definitely one of the most defining moments for our team during the trip.

Every night, long after we've said goodnight to the kids a thousand times and walked around the facility appreciating its spectacular beauty, Orlando will come back from wherever he's disappeared to with treats for those of us who are still awake. This is tradition #3, by the way. One night he brought us empanadas with cilantro sauce. Another night he came back with three different kinds of bread - coffee bread (no, really, with ground coffee beans in it), fried corn bread, and this mmmmmdelicious loaf filled with sugary paste and raisins. Last night we tried so very hard to stay up but Orlando was out for so long that we just had to go to bed. The makeup came off. The teeth got brushed. The lights went out and we climbed into our bunks and fell asleep for all of maybe ten minutes before there was a knock on our door. "Come on, i have something for you babies," Orlando was saying, and we all smiled and dragged our sleepy faces and clean teeth out to the table. Pastor Alex had come to join us, as he does some nights. Orlando had brought us goat cheese and banana pizza, which actually tasted really good. The cheese was very mild and the banana complemented it well. Of course we all wanted to know how Orlando's hospital visit went, and apparently a few pills and a "don't be stupid" would suffice. No major harm done.

Today has so far been fairly relaxing. Mom, Dad, Sam, Holly and Wendy acted out a few puppet skits for the younger kids while Dee, Ilya, Kayla and i took the older ones to the backyard where we played Knot and Winkum, a few team-building games that went over really well. We also served ice cream sundaes to the kids in the late afternoon. The best part though, i think, has been when my dad and Sam took the oldest three boys (plus Jhonatan, Brayan's friend who is visiting during our stay here) into the house and with a translator got to spend some man-to-man chat time with them. My dad was able to ask them what the hardest part about living at El Camino was, what kind of things they were interested in, and what kind of things the few of them would like to do the next time we come. The problem for the older boys here is that they are living with lots of little kids and always have to do little kid things and be in big-brother mode all the time. They are constantly being told "no." Despite all of this, they are still well-behaved but definitely have moments when the frustration shows. So having us come and spend time with them, throwing one another in the pool all afternoon or staying up later than everyone else together means a lot to them. We are consciously aware that they get overlooked, so we make an effort to include them or do special things separately with them. It's hard because the younger kids get jealous and need so much attention. So we've decided to plan things ahead of time to do with the older kids next time we go.


07.15.07 – From Humble Feet to Happy Feet

After such an exhausting 48 hours, the slow pace of today was much-needed and very welcomed. Church is always incredible here. Pastor Alex, who plays the keyboard, has acquired a drumset since last year which Brayan has learned to play very well. Emilio is still singing and his voice has only gotten better. After worship, my dad shared a little message with the kids and then Orlando asked our team to stand up and form a line, calling all the children up as well to stand around us and lay their little hands on our shoulders. He began praying and knelt down to anoint our feet with oil and pray over each one of us seperately. I couldn't help but remember last year when the children themselves were down on their hands and knees praying over our feet, which is still my most humbling experience to date. I am willing to bet that nothing else will ever compare to that pure, innocent expression of love and humility from the children, which broke me in so many ways and simplified my entire life down to that one defining moment. I wept oceans that morning. Today was a bit different, but still...when someone humbles himself and takes on the heart of a servant and touches your feet with oil, crying and praying over them as if you were the most valuable object in existence, something happens that is simply unexplainable. There is no question; it will change you.

Jhonatan stood between me and Sam during church. This boy is 15 years old and has already lived several lifetimes of devastation and corruption. His mother was killed by guerrillas in the mountains and one of his brothers died of heart failure. Years ago, he'd left El Camino to move back in with his 4-year-old sister and father, who sells drugs and pornography. Because of the things he's been exposed to and the effect they've had on him, Jhonatan is not being allowed back into the children's home out of fear that his deep-rooted problems will corrupt the other children. However, he's best friends with Brayan, the oldest boy living at El Camino, and has been allowed to stay here while our team visits. During this time, Sam and i have taken a natural liking to him. The fact that he knows virtually no English means nothing where communication is concerned. I hug him as often as i can. We pray for him. He throws me into the pool and Sam tackles him to the ground. The two of them even share an inside joke. He has now started calling us Mother and Father, which has taken me completely by surprise.

After lunch, my parents did their devotional, which was followed up by the building of balsa planes. The kids absolutely loved putting them together, painting them, and flying them around the courtyard. Several got lost to the rooftops.

Tonight we gathered all the kids into our house to watch Happy Feet. Wendy made popcorn in a skillet on the stove and served it with Coke. I'm a big fan of Movie Night, but it always makes me sad that the kids have to watch from a cold, hard floor. There are no couches. Some of us retrieved pillows and sheets from our beds because the kids started lying down and even falling asleep on the stone tile. Oh, what i would give to be able to snuggle up with some real blankets on a real bed with some of these kids...


07.16.07 - Reflections

Shopping Day definitely needs to be eradicated from our trips to Colombia. First of all, we can only bring a few kids with us - which is usually the oldest few boys, which is awesome just because they do need that special big-kid time - but saying goodbye to the rest of the kids in the morning and waving as we leave the facility in the van without them is way too hard. It means time spent away from them, time that they will spend being bored and sad and maybe feeling a bit jealous. Secondly, it's selfish. Us Americans need more things like we need holes in our heads. Yet here we have thirty children all in desperate need of shoes, socks and underwear and we're wasting away several hours buying souvenirs for ourselves in Cali. Granted, this year (since the need for the basics in clothing has grown) we did drive around for a while searching for things like shoes and pajamas. What we should have done was spent the whole day doing this until we came home with these basic needs met. Instead, we gave up the search in order to have ample time for shopping and only managed to purchase a pair of pajamas for each child on the way home. Talk about feeling guilty about something. I repeat: Shopping Day must die.

We did have a good time, though, and i know the boys enjoyed themselves. When everyone was done shopping, we went to an outdoor mall for lunch and i was able to have some Lulo juice! Bottled, though - not nearly as delicious as the homemade Lulo juice I’ve been spoiled with at El Camino - but still a nice treat.

Even better of a treat was coming home and being able to just laze around doing nothing in particular with the kids. They are all so starved for love in their own way that you can literally feel the need grabbing ahold of you when you're around them. Every time one looks into your eyes or rubs your arm, your heart breaks a little more. They have no one to call Mommy or tuck them into bed at night. They don't even have pillows. So you try to do the best you can at filling some of these enormous holes in their lives, all the while knowing that soon you will have to leave them and once again they will return to their daily routines as their childhoods quickly disappear.

We ate dinner and then went back outside for more lounging in the dark. I brought my bedsheet out and in one of the leather chairs on the porch, wrapped Marcos up in my arms. He lay contentedly in my lap, an intimacy he only gets to experience maybe once a year, and held my hand. Over the last several days, he'd been pointing to anything and everything in sight and asking me what the English word for it was. He'd also come up with some words on his own that he wanted to know - like "mentiras," for example, which is their word for "lies." He quickly made up a game with this word, which he proceeded to play tonight while snuggled in my lap. He would point to my shirt and ask me in Spanish what the English word for it was. So i'd say "shirt" and he'd turn his head away with squinty, mischievous eyes and say "Liiieees!" Then he'd point to the chair and i'd say "chair" and he'd say again, "Liiieees!" And as i'm writing this out, i truly hope that at some point in the next couple days this game gets caught on film because it's absolutely hilarious and Marcos looks so cute doing it. Every time he accuses me of lying, i just crack up!

It was so beautiful out tonight that some of us couldn’t imagine going to bed just yet. Sam decided to go swimming and Kayla and i sat at the edge of the pool, soaking our dirty feet. There are no lights by the pool here, so when Ephraim heard that we wanted to hang out there, this man moved heaven and earth to provide us a light source. After a while, we begged him to stop because we didn’t really need that much light and as usual, he really was going out of his way for us. The end result? He wired an extension cord through one of the bathroom windows and hooked it up to an indoor lamp, which he placed outside and directed toward the pool. The man is a miracle worker.

Anyway, on second thought, beautiful doesn’t describe the night accurately enough. I’d never seen the sky so clear or the stars so big and bright. It was warm, but there was a slight breeze. There were lots of bats out, and they were swooping down close to our heads (gracefully, though, not in a threatening way), which actually just made the experience all the more incredible. It was a great time to just sit and appreciate where we were, talk about all the amazing things that had happened during the trip, and begin preparing ourselves mentally for the emotional aspect of the final day and saying goodbye.

I would have wept at this time if the night hadn’t been so peaceful and feeling as though it would never end.


07.17.07 – We All Need A Healing Room

Breathe. Don't think.

It is our last day here, and despite its obvious horrible connotations, it has been one of my favorite days out of the whole trip. This is because, with the exception of the fiesta we have planned for this evening, we have nowhere to go and no real activities to do. Like last night, we've been able to just relax and love on the kids all morning.

Still, the day has been laced with its inevitable sad moments. We had our final team time before breakfast, which really just entailed singing a few songs. One of them, which has become a team favorite, is called "El Camino mi Corazón." My dad wrote it. Every time we sing it i get immensely emotional, and since this was the last time we would sing it before leaving and because it manages to encapsulate so much feeling and truth about being with the kids at El Camino, i just began sobbing. When we got to the "one child at a time" chorus, the dam inside of me broke and i felt my heart breaking with it.

Fast forward to a happy moment. I'm sitting on the porch in the back of the house with Marcos, and he's making me teach him more English. Then Cristian and Pastor Alex's daughter Karin come along and join us, and for the next half-hour to forty minutes i'm in conversation with them. We talk about candy and sharing and more English words and Cristian starts telling me all about winter - hats, earmuffs, jackets, mittens, hot chocolate and even snow angels. He tells me he's never seen snow, not even a photo of it, but he wants to. I tell him when i come back i'm going to bring some pictures of snow. He starts memorizing me and says that he wants my white skin and my blue eyes. I tell him i'd trade with him if i could, but that he's beautiful and perfect just the way he is. At this point Brayan walks by eating a coconut and as soon as he realizes i'd like one he yells over to Ephraim, who's cleaning the pool again, that one of the Americans wants a coconut. Ephraim drops everything, grabs a very long metal pole, sticks it through the fence, and begins jabbing the coconuts in the palm tree nearby. After about 10 minutes of this gladiator-like sport, two coconuts finally drop to the ground. Ephraim disappears and then returns with a machete, which he promptly uses to whack at the coconuts on the grass. He rips off the course brown outer layer and chops off the top so i can drink the milk inside, then proceeds to break the coconut into pieces with his bare hands so i can eat the flesh. I know i already said this, but i LOVE Ephraim. I feel as though this man would bring me the moon if i asked him to, and in a way for me he did. No one has ever retrieved a coconut for me before, especially in such primitive fashion. For that one act alone, there will always be a special place in my heart for Ephraim.

Fast forward to another sad moment. I'm in the backyard with Cristian and Jhonatan. They are the first ones to sign the back of my team t-shirt. They spend a lot of time getting it right and taking photos of what they wrote with my digital camera so that i can see. When they're done, i can tell that Cristian's emotions have taken a turn, which every child eventually does in their own way in their own time. He begins asking me when i'm coming back and if i'm going to forget him. My heart is breaking again. Then he hangs his head and i know the tears are falling. An enormous lump forms in my throat and i'm thinking, i can't do this alone. There is still half a day to get through and i cannot fall apart right now. So i hug him tightly and take his hand and lead him to "The Healing Room." This is what i've begun calling the room my parents are using, because every time one of the kids gets sad or injured, my mom takes them in there, closes the door, gives them some chocolate and talks to them. Cristian humbly accepts the chocolate but saves it for later. We wipe his tears and ask him what he’d like us to bring next time we come, and he answers, “snow.” We smile and Mom explains to him why this is impossible, but that we can bring photos. This seems to satisfy him. We hug him several times and soon he is ready to go back outside.

Now i sit on my bed, feebly attempting to collect myself so i can follow Cristian out and brave the next 8 or so hours with some amount of strength.

Breathe. Don’t think…


07.18.07 - Brokenness

The moment of brokenness came in the form of a haze that cloaked his body with the pity, gentleness and determination of a mother applying alcohol to her child’s wound. Yes, it would hurt. But the pain would be necessary for the healing process to begin.

He had been happy and laughing right along with the rest of the young people up until that moment. The night was cool yet balmy, and thoughts of our team leaving early the next morning were temporarily warded off as the singing, breakdancing and cupcakes served as welcome distractions. Sam and i sat with him in the back of the crowd and we teased each other as everyone else finished their meals.

In the midst of our laughter last night, Jhonatan suddenly grew quiet. I looked over and he was hunched over, his face in his hands, tears slipping through his fingers. Others began drifting over to ask what was wrong and he took off, heading for the bedrooms. Sam followed after him a few minutes later and i waited a while before making my way through the dark up the stairs and down the balcony to the room where the older boys slept. Sam stood there and glanced at me with pity in his eyes. I looked up and there was Jhonatan, curled up on the very top bunk in fetal position, heaving like a small boy, face covered. No words had been exhanged between them. I had been sent to retrieve Sam for a skit that we were acting out, but when he tried to leave, Jhonatan just kept saying, "No."

My heart, just as i imagine Jhonatan's, was breaking into a million pieces as i stood there in the doorway watching as right before my eyes this young man who had been forced to grow up far too quickly was reduced to a hurting, desperate little boy who had never experienced the feeling of being loved. For the next two hours straight, he remained in the same position and wept heavily nonstop, leaving me wondering when the last time was that he'd allowed himself to cry at all.

It was no mistake that Jhonatan was there at the children's home when our team was visiting. His life experiences had left him numerous holes in his heart, and for so long he had attempted to mask them. But because we were able to recognize these holes, we were also able to fill some of them up - with the freeing, forgiving love of God that he never had known before.

Although Jhonatan doesn't live at El Camino, he represents many of the children, both older and younger, who do. Children who every day face very real giants of rejection, neglect, abuse, loneliness and fear. Children who have nothing and literally would not survive without this love that heals and restores. Children who have been rescued and kept safe for the time being but still harbor the looming question of how they will ever make it once released from the protection and familiarity of the four walls built around them. They need mothers. They need brothers. They need consistency and lots of affirmation and assurance.

So many people do not feel as though they have much to give to children so in need. But Sam and i were just ordinary people doing what came naturally, and the result of that was the breaking down of a boy who for the first time had been shown that his life had value. I will never forget him, and every time i see his face i will be reminded that love truly is the greatest gift of all.

Aside from that incident, the fiesta was great. We served the kids a dinner of grilled pork, potatoes and bread, and they had a blast showcasing their talents on the stage. I have mixed feelings about the timing of it, though. On the one hand, the event certainly distracts us all from thoughts of saying goodbye on the last night, which i suppose is preferable for the kids because the last thing we want is them focusing on those negative emotions. On the other hand, i sometimes wish the final night could be more relaxing and we could appreciate each kid and give them all individual attention before we go. It’s hard to explain, but when you know that the instinctive motherly or fatherly love that you show these kids is the only love of that type that they’ll receive all year, it becomes difficult to justify occupying your time doing anything else but lavishing that love on them. I know the kids always enjoy and remember the fiesta night, though, and that’s all that matters.

This flight out of Colombia always feels like a flight to my death, with nothing but emptiness and depression waiting for me at the other end. I have left my family, my passion, my purpose for…what?

I look like a train hit me. There was a noise at the girl’s room window this morning and we drew the curtain to find seven or eight boys standing there in the rain, waiting to say goodbye to us. That will go down as one of the worst moments of my entire life, just so you know. And it was not too much later that we were all standing on the porch hugging and kissing and crying and feeling as though our hearts were being ripped out of our chests. Cristian wrapped his little arms around my waist and looked up at me and asked if i would remember him always – another moment for the record books. I struggled to answer him adequately in Spanish, as he simply has no idea that i think about him every single day of my life and would take bullets for him in a second as though he were my own.

Jhonatan had me sit next to him on the ride to the airport in Cali and he cried the entire way there. When we all waved goodbye in the terminal, he was sobbing into Orlando’s shoulder. With the exception of my fellow teammates, no one will ever understand what it was like to leave him in that state – a teenage boy with a horrible past and tormented soul who seemed to have just found and bonded with his long-lost family, only to have them walk out of his life. It broke him, and it broke us.

My emotions are a mess and my thoughts are a jumble, so it’s hard for me to write coherently. I’m going to force myself to fall asleep now in an attempt to escape reality, if only for a few hours.